Waiting 'Round The Bend
by miss izzy92
Summary: 1962, New York City. Finn Hudson had no idea what he was getting into when he moved into his new apartment.
1. Chapter 1

Characters: Finn Hudson, Kurt Hummel, Quinn Fabray, Mercedes Jones. (No OCs)

Pairings: Kinn. Past-Finchel.

Word Count: 2.097

Warnings: Racism, Homophobia.

Disclaimer: Glee and anything else you may recognize do not belong to me. Loosely based on the film adaption of "Breakfast at Tiffany's". The title comes from the song "Moon River".

* * *

><p>Chapter One<p>

He pulls the brown leather suitcases out of Strando's bright blue Ford Thunderbird with an undeserved amount of violence.

"_Please, Finn. Try to understand."_

The sound of the trunk closing with force didn't even penetrate his mind, whilst Strando kept looking at the car like he was trying to apologize for what he was putting it through.

"_Jesse said he could get me into Broadway!"_

Finn dragged the suitcases up the stairs, dismissing him with a "thank you" and a wave. The blond man didn't waste any time in running to his car and running his fingers over the blue metal, checking for any damage caused by Finn's hurt pride.

"_Wasn't that the whole point of coming to New York?"_

He fumbled with his keys for a few moments before managing to open the door and making his way into the dimly-lit landing.

"Well, that's an awful lot of hostility, right there." The voice came from a beautiful woman leaning on the open doorway of the bottom floor's apartment. Her blonde hair was loose over her shoulders and the pink robe covered everything, except her white hands. Finn was reminded of how early it really was.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you." He replied in a hushed voice, even though it was already quite useless at the moment.

The woman gave him a small smile, probably thinking the same.

"Don't worry. My roommate will be coming home any minute now, anyways." She looked at the suitcases before turning back to him. "Are you the new tenant?"

"Yeah, that's me. The tenant, I mean." He nodded absently and thrust his hand out for her. "Finn Hudson."

"Quinn Fabray." She replied taking his larger hand with her dainty one.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair, now." Finn informed her, grabbing his suitcases and making his way up the stairs. "Sorry again." He returned to a hushed voiced, which caused Quinn to give a short laugh.

"Don't worry about the noise, Mr Hudson. I'm already up and Figgins from the third floor could sleep through the Second Coming." She gave a small wave before closing the door behind her.

Finn hoisted the suitcases and steadily made his way up the stairs. He stood on the old welcome mat, his belongings on either side of him, as he struggled to open the door. He managed to nudge it open with his shoulder and the door swung open with an ominous sound. Finn stuck his head inside and looked around before hurling the suitcases carelessly into the apartment.

He cringed at the sound they made when they collided with the floor, before slowly stepping over them and examining his new home.

While renting the apartment without having seen it before wasn't the cleverest idea he'd ever had, it wasn't the worst either. That had to have been moving to New York, on Rachel's insistence. His mother, back home in Ohio, had warned him not to do anything rash, but he hadn't listened.

Things had been good at first, just the two of them. Then came the failed auditions and Rachel's disappointment when he found a job he loved as a mechanic, whilst she couldn't get enough of the artistic world in which she had managed to gain entry. And then she started to spend an awful lot of time with St. James…

Even though he'd admit he could be quite dim and oblivious, he also tried to see the best in everything. That meant that the abrupt end to his deteriorating relationship had taken him by surprise when it really shouldn't have.

Which left him where he was at the moment. In the middle of a barely-furnished one-bedroom apartment, with two suitcases and his job at the garage.

All in all, it could be worse, he decided.

* * *

><p>He took the day off to move into his apartment, even though it took less than an hour to fix things up like he wanted them. And by fixing, he meant shoving everything inside the closet and lying down on the bed.<p>

The following day, however, demanded that he get up and go to work. His boss wasn't so forgiving as to let him skip two days in one week.

Placing the fedora on his head, he made his way, yawning, down the stairs. He was startled at the sound of a banging, followed by hushed laughter.

On the landing stood a man, meticulously dressed, with striking, clear eyes. He was giggling with a shorter, dark skinned woman in a red coat and a broad brimmed hat. They also appeared to be slightly drunk, laughing at everything. The man also seemed to be fumbling with the keys in his hands. The woman turned to see him there and elbowed the man in the ribs.

"Well, hello there." The man smiled brightly, and Finn found himself responding in kind. The woman, on the other hand, kept looking at him cautiously.

"I'm Finn Hudson, I've just moved upstairs." He reached out his hand eagerly for the other man to shake. The other man took it with a smile and a quick sweep of Finn's body with his eyes.

"Kurt Hummel." The sound of a throat clearing brought them out of their daze, the both realizing that the handshake had gone off for long enough. "And this is Mercedes Jones, one of my best friends."

The woman's grip was strong and certain, something Finn was slightly surprised by.

"Pleasure." She drawled, managing to make Finn feel inadequate under her gaze.

"Well, I'm sure Mr Hudson, here…"

"Just Finn, please." He interrupted Kurt.

"Only if you call me Kurt." The man interrupted with a smile. "As I was saying, I'm sure Finn here, has something to do, and I, at least, need some sleep. So, if you'll excuse us." He directed to Finn, who nodded.

"Of course." He was pretty sure he was making that expression his mother had dubbed his 'puppy face', but Kurt just smiled widely as Mercedes walked past by him and into the apartment. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too. Goodbye." Kurt shut the door and Finn stared at the door for a few minutes before making his way quickly out in the street.

_What had just happened?_

* * *

><p>"What was that?" Mercedes asked as he was hanging up his coat. He cringed at her tone. The kind of tone that made him want to run and hide under the kitchen table. The kind of tone that could force Khrushchev to play nice with the capitalists. Instead, she was relegated to the role of nightclub singer.<p>

"What was what?" Yes, that's right. Play innocent and she'd be merciful.

"Boy, you know exactly what I'm talking about." No mercy, then. "What were you doing, throwing yourself on your new neighbor?"

"There was no throwing of any kind. I was just being nice." He took the chance to duck into the kitchen, looking in his pockets for a cigarette.

"No, honey. I've seen you be nice. That was you imagining all the things you'd like to do the man." She was leaning against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest, looking as he fiddled with the stove.

"Oh, Mercedes, trust me." He sent her a wicked grin as he bent slightly to light the cigarette on the stove. "If that were going through my mind, it would have been a lot more noticeable."

"There was something I didn't have to hear." Quinn took that moment to walk in the kitchen amidst their laughter. "Hello, Mercedes." The woman in question sent her a shaking wave, still trying to stifle her giggles.

"Liar." Kurt drawled, as Quinn turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He reached over her grabbing the can the shorter woman had been trying to reach.

"You always put it on the shelf _you know_ I can't reach." She grumbled as she opened and smelled the ground coffee beans, sighing in bliss.

"I just like to watch you stretch." He smiled back, taking the can.

"Boy, if I didn't know you." Mercedes leaned forward. "I have to go. I still have to get some sleep and change."

"And I still have to get ready to go to work. If we're not there by 9 o'clock, Emma goes nuts." Quinn added, stretching her arms over her head. "Come one, Mercedes. I'll walk you to the door."

"Alright. Bye, honey." Mercedes called, giving a small wave as she adjusted her hat in the entrance mirror.

"Bye, see you tonight." He replied, turning on the water tap, waiting for the pot to fill. He heard Mercedes and Quinn making their goodbyes and the front door close.

"Kurt, do you mind making some coffee?" Quinn asked, going past the kitchen and in her bedroom.

"On it." He called back, putting the pot on the stove and taking a drag of his cigarette.

It wasn't like Mercedes was saying. It's not like he even _could_ throw himself at complete strangers.

Besides, looking wasn't throwing, so to speak. He could look. It's not like it's a crime. Except it is. He'll just have to stick to looking at what he can't have until another disaster of a relationship rolls back into his life.

The showers turns off around the same time as the water starts boiling, and by the time Quinn walks in, dressed in a pencil skirt and a green blouse, with a towel wrapped around her head, he was already pouring the coffee in her cup.

"So…" He started as she grabbed the cup and started to pour an obscene amount of sugar in it. "Have you met the new tenant?"

"Yeah, something Hudson." She replied taking a sip of the coffee. "I met him yesterday when he was moving in. Why?"

"No reason." He answered nonchalantly. Quinn, apparently, was not convinced, slowly lowering the coffee cup from her lips and narrowing her green eyes at him.

"Kurt." It was a warning tone. Forget the USSR, if those two teamed up, they could take over the world.

"What?" He was getting slightly angry. "What is it with everyone today treating me like I'm some stupid kid?"

"Besides the fact that you kind of look like Jerry Mathers?" She asked completely unimpressed with his hissy fit. "We worry about you. You're our friend and we all remembered what happen last time you got involved with someone."

"It wasn't all bad." He defended weakly, even though he spent the month following his breakup in such a slump that even Sylvester had to have a talk about his depression scaring off her patrons. And that was saying something, considering she insulted them on a daily basis. "Besides, this isn't anything like that. I just think he's good looking, like I think Brando or James Dean are good-looking."

"Nice examples you picked, there." She pointed out, standing up and letting the towel fall from her head with a tug.

"Shut up." He mumbled.

"Now, go get some sleep. You need it." She said with a smile, running her fingers through her hair.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, standing up and making his way to his own bedroom. He could hear her in the bathroom as he stripped down to his briefs, too tired to put on pajamas, and crawled under the covers.

He heard the door open and Quinn tiptoeing inside. He gave a small smile as he turned to look at her.

"I'm awake." He raised his hands slightly and she smiled, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just…" She raised her head from where she was looking carefully at the covert. "I don't want you to think I don't want you to be happy. I do. I…"

"I get it, Quinn. I really do." He laid a hand on her arm. "And let's face it. I'm not exactly a very balanced person, am I?" He saw the corners of her mouth quirk upwards. "Just tell me one thing." She looked up at his serious tone. "I don't really look like the Beaver, do I?"

She laughed, leaning forward, and kissed him on the forehead before standing up. She leaned on the doorway, in her perfectly applied makeup and styled beehive, and Kurt really wished he could be in love with her.

"Bye, Quinn." He said instead, burrowing his head in the pillow as the door closed behind her. He knows exactly how bad his life could really be and the situation is the best he could possibly wish for.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Finn was distracted by twin knocks on the door. He let the sock in his hand fall back in the kitchen sink where he'd washing it, and rubbed his hands on his slacks to dry them, hurrying to open the door.

"Hello there, Finn Hudson." Kurt Hummel stood outside his door, dressed in a dark grey suit with his chestnut hair in a pompadour. For some reason he couldn't explain, Finn felt his brain skid to a halt.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at Finn's silence, and nodded to the apartment. "Can I come in?"

The taller man shook himself off and stepped aside to let his guest through. Kurt looked around curiously and though he wasn't even staring at him, Finn had the peculiar sensation that he was being analyzed.

"Nice place. Very minimalist." He walked over to the couch, leaning on back of it, looking completely at home. "I'm more of a mod guy myself, but I like it." Kurt sent him a smile and Finn was left trying to decode what the young man had said.

"Oh, I… don't have more stuff." He fumbled with his words, something that was becoming more common every time he bumped into the shorter man over the past month. Usually in the morning as Finn was leaving for work and Kurt was coming home, with the man smiling and greeting him and Finn finding himself tongue tied and his mouth dry.

Kurt cocked his head to the side and let out a clear laugh. For the first time in a long time, Finn had the feeling he wasn't the one being laughed at and he kind of liked it.

"So, Quinn's birthday is next Saturday. Wanna come?" He smiled hopefully up at Finn.

"I don't even know her." He pointed out with a frown, sticking his hand in the sink to take out a pair of socks.

"Sure you do. She lives downstairs and you see her every week." He shrugged and looked at him like it was obvious.

"Yeah, but I don't know her. I don't even know you." Kurt and Quinn, not matter the shorter man's claims, were still virtual strangers to him. No matter how often his eyes were drawn to a particular member of the pair.

"That's the best part." He threw his hands in the air, but no matter how obvious Kurt was trying to make the matter be, this time Finn knew he had a point. "People don't want to know each other. Not really. And other than the couple of girls who end up crying in the bathroom, parties are great for that. People dress up and pretend to be much more interesting than they really are. Everybody's happy."

"I don't know…" His mother had always taught him that it was very rude to go to a party of someone he doesn't know, but Kurt, and more specifically, his pleading eyes were cracking his resolve. "Okay, I guess."

"Groovy." Kurt sent him a bright smile, abandoning his place leaning against the couch, and heading to the door. "See you Saturday." He had already turned the knob when he called out. "Oh, and if you want to get Quinn something, give her some gardenias and she'll love you forever." He winked at Finn before closing the door behind him.

Kurt waited for a few seconds after the sound of the door closing before shutting his eyes and raising his fists to the side of his face.

"What are you doing?" He hissed at himself, turning on his heel and walking down the stairs.

* * *

><p>By the time he'd gotten himself dressed and gone downstairs, the party had already started to expand throughout the landing and the stairs. He bumped into a tall blond woman who said something about giraffes. He cocked his head before walking in the apartment and straight into the birthday girl.<p>

"Oh, I'm sorry!" He apologized before thrusting the bouquet of gardenias in her hands like it was on fire.

"It's quite alright." She answers with a smile, looking beautiful in a light blue dress with a crew-neck.

"Happy birthday, by the way." He said after an awkward silence. "Where's Kurt?"

"Thank you. He's in the kitchen." She said, shaking her head with a knowing smile and handing him the flowers again. "Could you please ask him to put these in water, please?"

"Yeah, sure." He grabbed the gardenias as Quinn was dragged away by a laughing Mercedes. He awkwardly made his way through the packed living room, before managing to reach the kitchen door.

Inside, a small cloud of cigarette smoke was forming above Kurt and an Asian woman sitting on the countertop. Kurt was the first to notice his presence sending him a bright smile. Finn waved back and the woman let her eyes run slowly over him.

"I'm so glad you made it!" Kurt said, rushing forward and taking the flowers from his grasp. The taller man tried to pass off the fact that he had his arms open as to receive a hug. From the woman's smile, he failed.

"Quinn told me to ask you to put those in water…" He said pointing to the bouquet, before leaning on the countertop next to the woman, watching Kurt bustle around the kitchen, surrounded by countless whiskey and vodka bottles.

"I'm Tina Cohen-Chang." She reached out the hand not holding a cigarette and Finn shook it tentatively.

"I'm Finn Hudson. I live upstairs." He pointed at the ceiling, and Tina followed the path of his finger with a raised eyebrow.

"Well that's done." Kurt announced, before looking at Finn. "Can I get you something to drink?" Finn looked around himself awkwardly. "How about a beer?" Kurt turned around and opened the lime green fridge.

Finn grinned as Kurt handed him the bottle, the label proudly displaying _Budweiser Lager Beer_. With a twist of his wrist, the cap came off and Finn held the bottle up to a smiling Kurt.

* * *

><p>He couldn't help it if he drank more than he should. No matter how nice and fun everyone seemed Finn was simply not accustomed to see people so different all jammed in one room. There's Mercedes, who he met along with Kurt and Tina who's sitting on the lap of a wheelchair-bound man who introduced himself as Artie.<p>

His mother had never said so herself, but he grew up with the idea that people don't mix. Not that they shouldn't, but they just don't. Of course, since coming to New York, he's seen his share of mixing, but never like this.

He felt the couch dip slightly on his left and dragged his eyes away from _was it is fourth?_ beer. He'd noticed the woman sitting next to him as the Latina who'd spent most of the night around the ditzy blonde. Her tight red dress left little to the imagination but Finn couldn't help being wary.

"Hi. I'm Finn Hudson, I live upstairs." The introduction was becoming very familiar to him and he held out his hand to her. She just looked at it like it was an alien object.

"I really don't care." His hand dropped and hers rose to her forehead to fix a stray lock of black hair her eyes quickly drifting to where the blonde woman was cheerfully talking to a tall black man. "Listen up, beanstalk. I'm feeling generous tonight, so I'm giving you the chance to show me a good time. You can thank me later." Finn could feel his jaw drop and the woman still looked entirely uninterested.

"Santana, I just saw a lonely, married, rich man in that corner, right there." Kurt said, pointing to the left, having appeared out of nowhere and leaned on the back of the couch. Santana rolled her eyes but got up anyways. Kurt followed her with his eyes before joining Finn on the couch, champagne glass in hand. "Sorry, but Santana would eat you alive."

"It's ok." Finn answered, his right hand still clutched around the beer bottle. Kurt looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Fine, she's kind of scary." He admitted after a few seconds.

"You know, she says she keeps razor blades in her hair." Finn cocked his head, but Kurt continued. "She's a singer at Sylvester's club. I'm the host." He gestured at himself, before looking around. "Let's see who else is here…"

"Ah!" He pointed at a woman almost plastered to the wall, looking around nervously. Finn hopes he didn't look like that before Kurt came to his rescue. "That's Emma Pillsbury. She's the head of the secretaries at the law firm Quinn works at. She's in love with her boss, who's married to this harpy. Anyways, that's Matt." Kurt pointed to the young man he'd seen talking to the blonde." He's the bartender at the club, and you really couldn't care less, could you?"

"I'm sorry." He looked at Kurt who was looking back at him with an amused smile. "It's just… I'm not really used to this." He waved his hand at the crowded living room. "Well, I am because of Rachel, but now, it just brings back bad memories, and it was never really my thing anyway."

"Rachel?"

"My ex-girlfriend." He answered absently. Kurt nodded before standing up and pulling him up from the couch. "What are you doing?"

"This isn't really what you need." Kurt answered with a smile. "Come on. Go to the fire escape and wait for me there." He pushed him towards the window, which Finn went through after taking a moment to look back and seeing Kurt hurrying into the kitchen.

The cold wind had him trying to wrap his arms around himself. Finn took the time to look around, the cars parked on the street and the lights coming through the windows of the apartments across the street. He remembers being back home with Rachel, back when she still wore her dark hair tied back with a ribbon and things were simpler. He remembers wanting to be with Rachel, to marry her, to be enough for her.

Behind him, the sound of someone slowly stepping through the window attracted his attention. Kurt stood behind him, with his jacket pockets comically full with beer bottles.

"Come on. You don't want to freeze out here, do you?" Kurt walked around him and up the fire escape ladder, the bottles making a clinking sound as they collided with each other and the fire escape groaned under their weight.

They were both huffing by the time they reached the roof, walking slowly and feeling the gravel through the soles of their dress shoes. Kurt reached the edge of the roof and taking the beer bottles out of his pockets, lined them up carefully on the edge.

"Your ex. Tell me about her." He turned around and stared at Finn.

"Well, her name was Rachel. And she's a great singer." He looked at Kurt, who was walking around the roof while stretching is arms above his head. "She's going to be famous, one day, I know it. And she wanted more than what I could give her." Kurt stopped and turned his head to the beer bottles.

"Don't say that about yourself." Kurt grabbed the first one and with a twist of his wrist, popped the cap off. He handed it to Finn who held on to it with both hands, the cold from glass keeping him grounded. "You're a nice guy. I don't meet a lot of those." Kurt continued.

"I'm nothing special. I'm not ambitious and I'm not smart. There are a lot of things I don't understand." For some reason, he couldn't stop himself from spouting off the things he hated most about himself, much less to a stranger like Kurt. He'd never done that with Rachel, no matter how much he loved her.

"We all have flaws, Finn Hudson. You're not that uncommon." Kurt smiled at him, and Finn smiled back.

"Let it out."

"What?" Finn was pretty sure he had missed part of the conversation, and it wouldn't be the first time.

"Let it out." Kurt said, staring intently at him. "Come on, man! Your girlfriend dumped you, your life's a mess and you really need to get some better clothes." He pointed out to the city, the stars twinkling above them, the sounds of the party drifting up to where they were standing. "Scream, jump, break something."

Finn looked around himself uncertainly. It's not like it could hurt…

Kurt got ahead of him, emitting a shrill scream that caused several pigeons to take flight in front of them. He took several deep breaths and nodded at Finn.

The taller man looked at Kurt, who smiled encouragingly back at him. And he screamed. It was like the wounds left by Rachel and that dark pit he'd fallen into, taking his joy and happiness were flowing away, the pain in the back of his throat comforting. He wasn't back to the person he used to be, not by a long shot.

But somehow, the strange young man from the downstairs apartment did more to help him than anyone else at the moment.

"Better?"

"Almost."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

When Finn woke up the first thing he felt was the pounding in his head. He raised a hand to his eyes, trying to shield them from the light coming through the window. He felt very tempted to sleep off the worse of the hangover but the sound of talking in the living room made him drag himself off the bed.

His feet searched around for the slippers, sliding into them when they were found. He got up and walked into the living room.

"You've been taking care of yourself, right?"

Kurt was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone that he'd just gotten installed last week. He looked different than any time Finn had ever seen him.

Gone was the perfectly pressed suit and coiffed pompadour. The Kurt sitting on his couch was lacking in hair products, dressed in his slacks and a white under shirt. He looked at Finn when he entered and sent him a smile, holding up a hand, signaling him to wait.

"Yes, I know. I love you to, dad. Bye." He put down the receiver and held the rotary dial phone in his lap, before looking at Finn with a soft smile. "Sorry. It's just my dad's always expecting a call at this time every week, and if I don't call he gets worried."

"It's ok. I suppose dads are important." He mumbled, the slightest sound making his head hurt. Kurt raised an eyebrow and Finn took that a sign to explain. "My dad died in the war. It's just been me and my mom, since I was a baby."

"I'm sorry to hear that. My mom died when I was eight. It was just the both of us for a long time, too." Kurt spoke softly, probably because of Finn's hang over. In that moment he didn't look like the almost intimidating free-spirit the taller man had always viewed him as. He couldn't say he disliked this Kurt.

"So, what happened last night?" Finn asked after a moment of hesitation, sitting down on the couch next to Kurt. The other man bit his lip and avoided his eyes. "I didn't say anything stupid, did I?"

"Well…" Kurt started.

"Man, tell me!" He was growing anxious and Kurt huffed in annoyance at his interruption.

"I would if you'd let me." Finn mumbled an apology. Kurt appeared sufficiently placated and continued. "You talked, we drank, after a while we came back down and I asked to crash here since I'm pretty sure my apartment looks like Berlin after the invasion."

"That's not so bad." Finn decided.

"And then you kissed me."

A beat.

"What?" Finn ran his hand through his hair, standing up quickly from the couch. "I can't have!" He turned to look at Kurt, looking horrified. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry."

"Eh, I've had worse. Even if you should lay off the cologne a bit" Kurt wasn't looking at him, just staring ahead.

"I kissed you." Finn repeated slowly.

"Yes, we've established that." Kurt had never sounded annoyed with him, not like Rachel or his boss, and Finn felt a sort of loss at hearing that familiar tone in his voice.

"But you're a guy." The man sitting on the couch sent him an unimpressed look. "Guys don't kiss, that's wrong."

"And yet they keep doing it." Kurt threw in and scoffed at Finn's confused frown. "Oh, come on Finn. I live with a girl like Quinn, we're both single and we're not related. Most importantly, we're not together in a romantic fashion. What does that imply?"

"What, so you're…" Kurt raised an eyebrow at the interrupted phrase.

"Queer, yes." Kurt responded calmly, fiddling with the telephone cord.

"But…" Finn was more confused than he'd ever been in his life. This couldn't be possible. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Before Kurt. "This… This is all your fault. You did this to me!" He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but he was desperate to blame someone.

"Now, hold up right there!" Kurt replied, voice raised and indignant. "I didn't do a goddamn thing." He stood up and Finn scrambled to get the table between them.

"I'm-"

"I am sick and tired to be playing Theda Bara in my own damn life!" Kurt said with a thunderous expression, beating his fists against the table top. "You kissed me, mister! That means you wanted to. That means that no matter how much you accused me of having done something to you, you have those _desires_." The last word was said scornfully and he quickly pulled his hands back from where they were still on the table. "And nobody can fix you, either."

He turned around and marched to the door, throwing it open. He was passing through the threshold when he suddenly stopped. He turned around quickly with a frowned before walking quickly to the couch and picking up his jacket, shirt and tie.

"This suit was expensive." He mumbled before walking out and slamming the door with enough force to rattle the walls.

* * *

><p>"You are a life saver, Mike." Quinn said, stretching to grab the glass someone had decided to put on the bookcase, right next to Kurt's copy of <em>The Once And Future King<em>.

"I do my best." The quiet man replied, holding several liquor bottles in his arms.

"Sometimes I'm shocked at how much people can drink." She wiped a strand from her eyes and tucked behind her hair, huffing when it fell back. Mike looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Why don't you sit down?"

"I couldn't let you clean everything." Quinn said, even as she laid the glasses in her hand on the table.

"Come on, you need rest. You're the one person who had to be nice to everyone, last night." He looked at her earnestly. "You've earned it."

Quinn smiled at him before sitting on Kurt's carefully selected couch. She found herself surrounded by bottles, glasses and cigarette stubs. She could feel her façade disappear, the same one she'd worn the same time she'd stepped on Sylvester's stage. She looked at her hands and had the feeling they should be looking more haggard.

"Do you ever regret coming to New York, Mike?" She didn't look up, staring at her hands as she clenched them in fist and slowly spread them again.

"Not really." He looked at her questioningly, putting the whiskey bottle aside.

"I do. Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed home, gotten married, become a perfect little Donna Reed housewife." She remembers being fourteen and sneaking in store to buy a box of Clairol, of going on diets. Wanting to be like her sister, 19 and with a baby on the way. The apple of her parents' eyes.

"And why would you want to do that?" Mike sat in front of her, hands on his knees.

"I get so tired. I'm not stupid, I know what the people I work with say about me. The nightclub singer who got knocked up and now lives with a man, one who isn't even the father."

"Secretaries are scary things." The comment prompts a laugh from Quinn. "And you shouldn't think like that. Of course, sometimes you can fit in that category, but others…" Mike let the sentence hang, smiling at the blonde woman.

"You're adorable. How come this city hasn't eaten you alive yet?" He chuckled.

"Don't worry. I'm a big boy." Quinn nodded at the claim, before the sound of a door slamming traveled through the apartment. "What was that?"

The answer came a few seconds later, with Kurt flying through the door, holding on to half of his clothes with a death grip. He walked right past them, going into his room. A few muffled shouts reached Quinn and Mike, who looked at each other wide eyed.

Santana walked unsteadily out of the room, blinking sleep from her eyes, barefooted and dressed only in a silk shift.

"Yeah, yeah. Can it, Liberace. You know how grating I consider the sound of your voice." She fell heavily on the couch next to Quinn and crossed her legs. "Refrain from using it. So, how was your night?" The black-haired woman asked, turning to Quinn with a smirk.

"Not as eventful as yours, I'm sure."

"Oh, Q, if you were feeling bored you were more than welcome to join us." Santana smirked wickedly as Quinn raised herself from the couch and rolled her eyes.

"I think I'm going to pass on that." She said going in the kitchen. Santana nodded and turned to Mike, who had watching the interaction.

"That's what she said last time." She gave him a knowing nod when his eyes widened.

Kurt had taken that moment to walk behind the couch, shivering dramatically at Santana's words.

"Hey, ladyface. Feeling calmer?" Santana asked, stretching her neck to see Kurt doing the knot on his tie.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Hi, Mike." Mike waved back in greeting. "I'll be at the club." He walked out of the door, slamming it behind him.

"Was that Kurt?" Quinn came rushing out of the kitchen, decked in flowery apron and with a dishrag in her hands. "Rats."

* * *

><p>"Is anyone here?" Mercedes inched slowly into the club, closed for the day, dimly-lit and with the chairs up on the tables, the turntable playing, and the needle sliding on the black vinyl.<p>

_Yet darlin' I'd be twice as blue without you__  
><em>_It hurts but I come runnin' back for more_

Sylvester's was often regarded as the end of the road. The people who went there were beyond caring about how dark or light the person sitting next to them was or what insults were thrown at them by the owner. She was pretty sure that sooner or later she'd end up there too.

"In here." Kurt Hummel's voice came from behind the bar, where the lean man was standing, bottle of aged whiskey in hand. He shook it slightly in here direction. "Want some? It's the good stuff."

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" Mercedes sat on the stool, watching as he expertly filled two fingers of the glass.

"What are you talking about? It's…" He paused and raised his wrist, squinting at the watch. "3 o'clock. Are you sure you don't want some?" She shook her head and looked at the counter, slowly sliding her fingers over the dark wood. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." She said quickly. From Kurt's face, he was less that convinced. "It's just..." She stopped herself and shook her head, playing with her green coat's cufflinks. "I've been thinking. You know when you meet someone and they're great. The kind of person that would talk to someone who looks like me."

"Sweetie, you're beautiful. You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen." Kurt said earnestly, the whiskey glass forgotten on the counter. "Is there a guy? Is that it?"

"There might." Kurt smiled brightly at her.

"'Cedes, that's great. You deserve someone." He continued. "What's he like?"

"He's tall, handsome, kind. He came to New York to look for work, we met when we were waiting for the bus, a few weeks ago." She kept looking at her hands, and Kurt frowned when he heard her voice tremble.

"He sounds great, but there's something you aren't you telling me." Mercedes slowly raised her head, staring him in the eyes.

"Kurt, he's white." The words came out quickly and Mercedes looked like he was searching for something in his face. He found himself unable to respond for a few seconds, enough time for the head to fall slightly.

_Cause everybody's somebody's fool.__  
><em>_Everybody's somebody's plaything._

"Hey, none of that." He reached for her hands and gripped them in his own. "What I said still stands. Any guy would be so lucky to have you. And… And this is New York. It's not illegal, remember?" Mercedes nodded shakily.

He reached over the counter and kissed her on the forehead. Mercedes gave a small smile, and Kurt felt her hands clench under his.

_And there are no exceptions to the rule.__  
><em>_Yes, everybody's somebody's fool._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Finn spent the following week in a blur. He knew he was annoying his boss and the other mechanics by acting even more distracted than usual, but he couldn't help himself. Finn Hudson was normal. He'd always been. Rachel even used to joke about that, calling him her All-American boy.

Apparently he wasn't. He was something else, something people feared, hated, made films to pass in schools about the dangers of those kinds of people.

No. He couldn't be like that. That's not how he was raised. He was a normal boy, who'd played in the street with the other boys, who'd played football in high school, he'd loved Rachel, loved everything about her. He was just confused.

Confused by Kurt, by his presence. Kurt was the kind of person he'd never had a chance to meet. Larger than life one minute and so painfully real the next. It threw him for a loop, but Finn was used to that. He wasn't used to the hazy memories of that night to surface from the back of his mind, memories of smooth skin and silky hair his hands had felt when he grabbed him and…

Kissed him. He sure as hell wasn't used to kissing another guy and _liking it_.

Of finding a guy attractive, of wanting to be with Kurt in a way he'd only been with girls before. He shouldn't want to.

That doesn't stop him, though.

Finn couldn't stop thinking about Kurt. About touching him, everywhere, hear him sigh, hear him moan, making those sounds he'd never been interested in hearing a man make, but Kurt, for some reason, defies logic.

He looked around guiltily around himself on the bus home, scared that somehow someone would know what he's thinking, that he spent almost every night of the week tossing and turning in bed because he just can't stop thinking about something he knows he shouldn't.

In a flash of paranoia, he looked behind himself and his eyes caught a pretty dark-skinned girl who frowned at him and lowered her eyes to her lap. He turned his head back to the front of the bus, with a heavy weight in his gut.

* * *

><p>Finn's woken by the sound of shouting. Blinking blearily in the darkness, he struggled to find his slippers and walked to the door, without thinking. He almost took a step back as he opened the door, the sound piercing his ears. He recognized the voices as Kurt's, Quinn's, and someone else he couldn't place.<p>

When he reached the landing, he hid back from the scene. Quinn was screaming, anger on her face and hair wild. A tall man with an odd haircut was screaming just as angrily, ignoring Kurt who kept trying to split them up, only to throw his hands up in exasperation when the two didn't even notice he was there.

The man yelled something about being a bad mother and Finn saw Quinn's face fall and Kurt's redden in anger, pushing off the other man with a strength Finn would never had guessed the smaller man possessed.

"Come on, you're coming with me." He said sternly to the man he was manhandling to the door. "Finn, keep an eye on Quinn."

Finn looked up startled, not realizing Kurt had noticed him there. The door shut behind him and as he turned around to look at Quinn, she was already disappearing into her apartment, leaving Finn standing alone on the landing.

He looked around dazed before running up the stairs and throwing his apartment door open. Striding over to the window, he opened it and carefully stepped on the fire escape. He leaned over the railing and sure enough, he could just make a blond head sitting on the steps of the fire escape adjacent to Quinn and Kurt's apartment.

She didn't raise her head as she heard him sit down next to her, shifting uncomfortably on the cold metal.

"I have a baby, but I'm pretty sure you know that already." She looked intently at the opposite side of the road, like it was something more interesting than a brick building.

"Yeah, I got that from the screaming…" Finn replied quietly, looking at her carefully.

"Did I ever tell you why I came to New York? I'm from this town in the middle of nowhere and… I was your little Christian American princess. And I thought I could get out of there. That I could make it. So, I left everything behind. And I came here." She raised her hands and looked around with a sad smile.

"I tried to make it, at first. I went to every audition I could, but, nothing happened… I didn't have a lot of money. I met Tina through the auditions. She was working as a secretary for this record company guy at the time. Anyways, she got me a job at Sylvester's."

"I performed at the club with Santana and Brittany, and that's how I met Kurt. He called us the Unholy Trinity." She smiled genuinely and gave a short laugh. "I… Puck came around a lot. He had this thing with Santana… Anyways, then he starts coming after me, and… he tells me all these things I haven't heard since I left home, that I was special, beautiful…"

Finn looked at her as she spoke, lost in her own world, and looking, much like Kurt had, extremely frail and real, and not at all like the front cover worthy model she presented to the world.

"You are beautiful, Quinn." She gave him a small smile.

"Thanks, Finn." Quinn sighed before continuing. "Well, every girl likes to hear those things and we got together. It ended quickly, but by that time I was already pregnant. Beth Fabray was born at seven o'clock in the evening, on May 5th, 1960. She looked just like me."

"What happened to her?" Finn berated himself as he asked the question, telling himself it was none of his business, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know more about the tenants from the ground-level apartment. Quinn breathed in deeply.

"I was just a kid when I had her. I was scared and alone, and too ashamed to go back to my family. So, I gave her up. There was this woman, Miss Corcoran. She was a music teacher and she'd never married or had children of her own, so… I gave Beth to her. She could take care of my baby, give her the life I couldn't."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Finn looked at his lap, suddenly unable to raise his eyes to her.

"Men look at me and think this is everything there is. That there's nothing there besides my body, besides a way to pleasure _them_." For the first time since the conversation began, Finn could hear the hitch in her breath that signaled tears.

"You know that's not true, Quinn." Kurt's voice caused their heads to snap towards the window, to where Kurt was half-sitting on the window ledge.

"Kurt! What…?" Quinn stammered, seeming surprised in seeing him there.

"He's gone now, don't worry." Kurt sends her a small smile, hanging on the window.

"Thanks, both of you" Quinn hid her face in her hands, letting them fall in her lap and bumping Finn with her shoulder. "For letting me unwind."

"It was no problem."

"Come on, now, you two. You must be insane to be out here in November. You're both going to freeze to death, you know." Kurt rolled his eyes at them.

"Aww, you wouldn't let that happen, Kurt." Finn said in a joking tone, happy to note Kurt's raised eyebrow and smile.

"Yeah, you love us." Quinn's mocking reply caused an awkward silence to fall on the trio. Standing up quickly, she climbed in through the window, with Kurt leaning back slightly to let her pass. "Well, I have something I have to do… Very urgent, you see."

"I'm sure you do…" Kurt responded, leaning on the window sill with his arms crossed. He looked at Finn, who had the sudden realization that he was sitting outside in his underwear. "So…" The man started, sliding off his jacket and throwing it to Finn, who quickly threw it around his shoulders.

"Yeah… Look I wanted to apologize." He took Kurt's raised eyebrow as permission to continue. "I shouldn't have said what I said. Everything just confusing for me. Even more than usual."

"It's ok." Kurt shrugged, sending him an awkward smile. "I know the feeling." He looked down at his feet before snapping his head back up. "Are you doing something tomorrow night?"

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was subversive. Or so Tina told him one night, after Artie had rolled himself to the bar to speak with the man in question, who was on his five minute break. A puff of cigarette smoke left her mouth slowly, making her look like Marlene Dietrich. If she was Chinese, that is.<p>

More like Anna May Wong, really.

"He reads Marx and Lenin, he's got no problem with saying he sleeps with men and he kisses Mercedes on the lips, in public." She grinned and shook her head as if remembering something funny, the movement making the purple brooch pinned to her black dress glint. "All that does is make people want to be around him but be afraid to admit it. They like that feeling, that they're doing something they shouldn't."

They look at Kurt, who had his head thrown back in laughter at something Santana said. Finn was pretty sure that Tina was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight.

"Even the way he showed up in New York is like something out of a story. Like a poor Jay Gatsby." She continued and he turned to look back at her. "He just showed up one day at the club, with this little suitcase and a nervous tick. And Sylvester liked him! The woman doesn't like anybody. No one knows where he came from, though, or anything else about his past."

He'd never heard about that, almost taking Kurt's existence as a set point. Despite having lived there for year without having even heard the name, in his mind, Kurt Hummel and New York had become an extension of each other, and it was difficult for him to think that it had ever been any other way.

But something kept nagging at his mind. He remembered something from the previous week at the apartment, listening in to a phone conversation.

"He talks with his dad, though. I've heard him talking to him on the phone once." He informs her, excited at having a new information to share, only to see the smile slip, replaced with a confused expression at the sight of Tina's face. She looked back at Kurt, who was getting up and moving back to the stage, before turning back to Finn.

"Finn, Kurt's dad died of a heart attack, when Kurt was a teenager." Tina said carefully. "He couldn't possibly have been talking with him on the phone."

He felt back on his chair, before turning to Tina again.

"But you said nobody knows anything about him before New York." He pressed, trying to deny what he had been told. Kurt couldn't be…

"He told me once, a while ago. He was very drunk, I don't think he remembers." She looked down at the drink in her hand, something with a fancy name Finn hadn't caught.

"He's not crazy." It came out as a whisper.

"No, he's not." Tina raised her head and looked at him, suddenly appearing old and tired. "He's just a little damaged."

The sound of Artie's wheelchair drawing closer snapped them out of their staring contest. Tina smiled at Artie, who was frowning at the both of them. She leaned and gave him a long kiss on the lips. Finn didn't notice a thing, staring at Kurt who had come forth to present Miss Mercedes Jones and sending him a bright smile.

He stood up and slowly walked out of the club, ignoring Kurt's confused glance at his retreating back, and moving out of the way of a short man with gelled hair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The sound of something colliding with his front door woke him up. Blinking at the alarm clock, he took a few moments to realize the small black arm was pointing at the four. Finn let his head fall against the pillow but the noise wouldn't stop. Making his way out of bed, he stopped for a moment to locate his slippers.

He considered putting a robe on but that would be too much trouble. The person at the door would just have to deal with seeing him in his boxers and undershirt. That was all the thought his mind was capable, at least until he opened the door and saw just who was outside.

Kurt was sitting on the railing, swaying and dangerously close to falling backwards. He was in the middle of shoving his hand down his coat pocket, his hat long gone and his tie undone. It was a distressing sight. Kurt liked nothing more than to be in control, a trait he shared with Rachel. He was usually so perfectly put-together, even when he was angry. Especially when Finn was fumbling with his words and sticking his foot in his mouth.

"Finn!" That Kurt was long gone, leaving this drunken mess in his stead. He smiled brightly at Finn. "I was wondering if you were awake. Thank God you were. Wouldn't want to wake you up." He raised his arms sideways, twisting them dramatically.

"Well, not God. He doesn't exist." Kurt closed his eyes and raised his arms above his head, like a swimmer preparing to dive. "Religion is the opium of the people!" He yelled, leaning backwards far too much for comfort.

Finn rushed forward, having barely blinked during Kurt's monologue, and grabbed him by the waist. Kurt made a small sound of shock but quickly grabbed on to his shoulders.

"Miss me, did you?" He whispered in his hear. Finn tried to ignore the shivers that shot through his body at having Kurt's mouth so close to his ear and picked him up, taking him to the apartment and depositing him on the couch like he would a sack of potatoes.

He rushed to shut the door, resting his forehead on it and closing his eyes. He let out a deep breath and turned around to see Kurt struggling with his shoes. He walked forward and stopped Kurt's fumbling hands with his own. He shorter man raised his eyes to him and slowly let go, leaning backwards on the couch.

Finn kneeled by the couch and started untying the shoelaces. For some reason, a memory of his mother struggling to teach a confused Finn to tie his shoelaces popped in to his mind. He knew a lot of things confused him, even simple things like that. He was especially confusing to listen to Kurt, who had a habit of using big, complicated words. He wasn't confused at the moment, though. Kurt needed help and he was going to try to give it to him.

"I'm sorry." The small voice came from Kurt, who was busy looking down at his hands.

"What for?"

"For all this. For being such a mess." Kurt raised his head and looked him straight in the eyes. "You don't deserve this."

"It's ok." He responded in a quiet voice. When he finally managed to take the shoes off he stood up and folded his arms in front of his chest. The image of Kurt looking so small and helpless wasn't making him seem real, as it once had. Instead it was making him angry and frustrated that someone who'd made him feel things he'd never been aware of could have lied to him. What made Finn angrier was that, try as he might, he still couldn't hate him. "No, actually it's not." Kurt raised his head sharply. "Why did you lie to me?"

"When did I lie to you?" He sounded genuinely confused. Finn took a deep breath to calm his temper.

"Your dad." Kurt's face became devoid of all emotion. "They told me he's dead. You were speaking to him on the phone. Which one of you is telling the truth?" Kurt licked his lips with a faraway look in his eyes and pulling his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees.

"I never lied to you. When did I have a chance to?"

"What?" Finn asked perplexed.

"I've told you my name is Kurt Hummel, I'm queer, I live downstairs and I work in a nightclub. All of which are true. They're also all I've told you about myself. When did I lie to you?" Kurt was staring at him calmly.

"Your dad…" Finn was starting to fumble with his words.

"He's dead. Has been for years. I just like talking to him on the phone." He bit his lip and turned his face to him with an angry expression. "Everybody lies to everyone else. Even to people they're supposed to care about. Why can't I pretend for my own sake? Why do I have to deal with reality every single day." He had stood up and for the first time since Finn had known him, was looking truly unhinged.

Kurt gave a shuddering breath and leaned on the wall, closing his eyes.

"My ex showed up tonight. He's getting married." He smiled at him slowly. "Don't know why he went there. Things had been pretty much over from the moment I threw Quinn's copy of _The Second Sex_ at his head." He chuckled before covering his mouth with his hand. "Then again, he's never been very smart."

He licked his lips and drew closer to Finn, who watched him warily but didn't move away. He let a finger ghost across Finns chest, barely feeling anything through the cotton but painfully aware of its presence.

"You're not like that, are you, Finn?" Kurt's mouth drew closer to his cheek, just enough for the taller man to feel his breathing on his own skin and his eyes fluttered shut. "You're not a little boy, are you?" Finn feels Kurt tilt his head slightly upwards, can almost see the smirk on his face. "You want me. You know you do."

"No." The presence in front of him disappears and Finn opens his eyes to see Kurt staring at him like he just pulled the rug from underneath his feet. His voice gained some strength. "I don't want you like this." Kurt's confused frown almost broke his heart. "I… Get some sleep. You can stay in my room, I'll sleep on the couch."

"Well, look at that. Turns out Mr. Finn Hudson isn't so common after all." Finn turned back to see Kurt chuckle and close the bedroom door behind him.

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was long gone when he woke up, leaving behind the table set for breakfast. Finn checked his bedroom, still blinking blearily, noting its emptiness and the carefully made bed.<p>

He sat down and waited ten minutes before deciding Kurt wasn't coming back and digging into his breakfast with a shake of his head.

A few Kurt-less weeks later, Finn opened his door to find the impeccably dressed tenant from the apartment below.

"So…" He cracked a smile. "Are you doing something tomorrow night?"

* * *

><p>"Ladies and gentleman." The sounds of conversation died down as Kurt's voice traveled through the club. "I have someone very special for you tonight." His professionalism couldn't hide the glee in his voice as he smiled into the microphone. "So please, give your biggest welcome to the one and only, Miss Quinn Fabray."<p>

Raucous applause came from several points of the club, notably from Mercedes, who was sitting next to a blond man, looking slightly bemused, Tina and Artie, the black bartender and the Asian man sitting at the bar. Quinn got up on the stage, hugging Kurt on the way, followed by Santana and Brittany. She gave a short laugh, before speaking.

"It's been a long time, I'll give you that." Several people laughed. "To those of who don't know me, my name is Quinn Fabray and I haven't been here in two year. But, it felt like it was the right time to come back." She looked down, her fingers smoothing the blue fabric of her dress. "We came here because we had nowhere else to go. Because they wouldn't have us anywhere else." She raised her head. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to sing something now." More scattered laughter sounded out but was quickly silenced.

_If you leave me, I'll go crazy__  
><em>_If you leave me, I'll go crazy_

Finn took the chance to look around, seeing everyone else enthralled in Quinn's performance. Kurt caught his eye, smirking and making his way to a corridor hidden on the side of the stage. Finn looked around, before getting up slowly and following Kurt, taking the time to note Santana's smirk, from her place behind Quinn.

The corridor was cramped and claustrophobia inducing, the smell of humidity piercing his nostrils, and a faded poster of Little Richard on the green walls. Kurt was a few feet ahead of him, calmly lighting a cigarette.

_You've got to live for yourself__  
><em>_Yourself and nobody else_

"My father died when I was sixteen." He said in lieu of greeting. "I was sent to live with my uncle Andy and his family. I got involved with this football player." He gave a bitter laugh. "Man, that was one hot mess." He shook his head, looking at the cigarette in his hands fondly. "Anyways, it got out, and uncle Andy had me committed, to try and fix me." There it was, the scary, haunted look. "They tried everything, and I do mean everything. Of course, it wasn't until they tried shock therapy that I decided that maybe giving up my pride wouldn't be such a bad idea."

He was talking to himself then, completely unaware of anything else other than the butt of his cigarette. Finn couldn't help but feel that he was way over his head.

_'Cause I love you, love you__  
><em>_Oh, I love you too much_

"So I lied and said I was cured. Slowly, of course. They were mean but they weren't stupid." Kurt takes a long drag. "Eventually, they believed me. They patted themselves on the back for a job well done, I was released, caught the first train out of that place and came here, with nothing but this old suitcase and the clothes on my back." He shook himself off his daze and smiled brightly at Finn. "And the rest, as they say, is History. Now you know everything about me."

"Thank you." Finn couldn't think of anything else to say. Over the course of a few minutes, Kurt had trusted him more than anyone else ever had before. The shorter man nodded before leaning against the wall and Finn moved closer.

_If you quit me, I'll go crazy__  
><em>_If you forget me, I'll go crazy_

"You said you didn't want me." Kurt let his head fall back softy and closed his eyes.

"I don't want a shell." He looked at him and gulped. "I want the real deal." Kurt smiles before taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"Never been called that before." Tendrils of smoke slipped past his lips. Finn drew nearer and Kurt opened his eyes, letting his cigarette fall to the ground before stepping on it. He smirked before grabbing a hold of the back of Finn's neck, drawing it down to his height, his lips ghosting over the taller man's.

"Do you want me now?" Kurt whispered.

Finn didn't answer, instead pressing the other man against the wall and crashing his lips on Kurt's. He could dimly feel fingers grabbing a hold of his hair but his mind was much more preoccupied with lips and skin and the almost indiscernible breathy sounds Kurt made.

"I'm still a mess, you know." Kurt said, breaking the kiss, but tilting his head back to let Finn kiss along his neck.

"Who isn't?" He chuckled into the other man's neck.

"The beauty of our generation…" Kurt whispered before twisting them around so that Finn was the one pressed against the wall. The taller man blinked down at him, lips flushed and hair sticking in all directions. Kurt gave him a wicked grin before leaning up for another kiss.

_You've got to live for yourself__  
><em>_Yourself and nobody else_

The End


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